“Just a little winded,” he gasped. “Not as young as I once was. Just give me a moment to get my breath back.”
“Let me take Amber from you.”
“No! Little mite that she is, she is still too heavy for you. I will be all right in a few seconds.” He sank to the ground, still holding Amber tenderly to his chest. The other three women waited with him, but every time there was another outburst of gunfire or shouting they gazed around fearfully and huddled closer together. From the direction of the Belgian consulate, flames towered into the sky, and illuminated the surroundings with a yellow, flickering light. David heaved himself back to his feet, and stood swaying. “We can go on now,” he said.
“Please, let me take Amber.”
“Don’t be silly, Becky. I am perfectly all right. Go on!”
She peered closely at his face. It was pale and shining with sweat, but she knew that to argue with him would be a dangerous waste of time. She took his arm to steady him and they went on, but their pace was slower now.
After another short distance David had to stop again. “How far to where the this is moored now?”
“Not far,” she lied. “Just beyond that little mosque at the end of the road. You can do it.”
“Of course I can.” He staggered forward again. Then, from behind, they heard a shout and the baying of Arab voices. They looked back. There was another pack of Dervish down the road behind them, at least two dozen, brandishing their weapons and hooting with wild excitement as they saw the women.
Rebecca dragged David to the corner of the nearest building. For a moment they were out of sight of their pursuers. David leant heavily against the wall. “I can’t go any further.” He handed Amber to Rebecca. “Take her!” he ordered. “Take the others with you and run. I will hold them here while you get away.”
“I cannot leave you,” said Rebecca, staunchly. Her father tried to argue but she ignored him and turned to Nazeera. “Take Saffron and run. Don’t look back! Run for the boat.”
“I’ll stay with you, Becky,” Saffron cried.
“If you love me, you will do as I say,” Rebecca told her.
“I love you, but ’
“Go!” Rebecca insisted.
“Please, Saffy, do as she says.” David’s voice was rough with pain. “For my sake.”
Saffron hesitated only a moment longer. “I will always love you, Daddy, and Becky and Amber,” she said, and grabbed Nazeera’s hand. The two dived down the alley. David and Rebecca turned back to face the Dervish as they poured round the corner. Their jib has and the blades of their swords were wet with blood, their faces were mad with blood lust. David drew his sword. He pushed Rebecca and Amber behind him to protect them.
The Dervish formed a half-circle facing him, just out of reach of his sword. One darted forward and feinted at his head. When David slashed back at him he shouted with laughter and jumped away. David tottered unsteadily after him. The others joined in the sport. They baited him, just out of reach of his blade, forcing him to turn from one side to the other.
While the others kept him in play, one circled and came up behind Rebecca. He seized her round the waist with one arm, and with the other hand pulled up her skirts. She was naked below the waist and the other Arabs roared with approval, as their comrade butted his hips against her buttocks in a copulatory display. Rebecca shrieked with outrage and tried to break away but she was hampered with Amber in her arms. David staggered back to try to protect them.
The Dervish released Rebecca. “We will all mount her like that and she will bear us twenty fine Muslim sons.” He laughed and leered.
David was maddened by the pain in his chest and the taunts they shouted at him. He charged again and again, but they were swift and nimble. Blinded by his own sweat, and crippled by the pain that was building swiftly in his chest, the sword slipped from his hand at last and he sank to his knees in the dirt. His face was swollen and contorted, his mouth was open and he gulped like a stranded fish. One of the aggagiers stepped up behind him and, with a surgeon’s skill, sliced off one of his ears. Blood poured down his shirt but David did not seem to feel the pain.
Rebecca was still holding Amber, but she rushed to her father and knelt beside him. She placed an arm round his shoulders. “Please!” she said in Arabic. “He is my father. Please spare him.” The blood from David’s wound sprinkled them both.
The Dervish laughed. “Please spare him!” they mimicked her. One grabbed a handful of her hair, and dragged her away. He threw her full length in the dust.
She sat up, holding Amber in her lap. She was weeping wildly. “Leave him alone!” she sobbed.
With a shaking hand David reached into the pocket of his jacket and drew out the Webley. He waved it in vague circles. “Stand back or I shall fire.”
The aggagier who had cut off his ear stepped in again, and with another quick, controlled cut lopped off David’s outstretched hand at the wrist. “Spare us, O mighty infidel, for we are in great terror of you,” he jeered. David stared at his severed wrist from which spurted a jet of arterial blood.
Rebecca cried out, “Oh, what have they done to you?”
David clutched the stump to his chest with the other hand, then bowed his head over it, in an attitude of devout prayer. The Arab swordsman stepped up to him again and lightly touched the back of his neck with the blade, measuring the distance for a clean blow. Rebecca shrieked with despair as he lifted the sword, then swung back into the stroke. It cut through David’s neck without sound or check, and his head dropped free of his shoulders. His headless body collapsed and his legs kicked in a brief convulsive jig.
The Arab picked up the head, holding it by a handful of its grey hair. He came to where Rebecca crouched and thrust her father’s head into her face. “If he is your father, then kiss him farewell before he goes down to boil in the waters of hell through all eternity.”
Although Rebecca was sobbing hysterically she tried to cover Amber’s eyes with one hand and keep her face averted. But Amber twisted back, and screamed as she looked into her father’s face. The tip of David’s tongue protruded between slack lips, and his eyes were open, but blank and sightless.
At last the Dervish lost interest in such mild sport. He threw aside the head, and wiped his bloody hands on Rebecca’s bodice. Then, through the cloth, he pinched and twisted her nipples, laughing when she cried out at the pain. “Take them!” he ordered. “Take these two filthy infidel whores to the pen. They will be taught to serve the needs and pleasures of their new masters.”
They pulled Rebecca to her feet, still with Amber in her arms, and dragged her away towards the waterfront.
Saffron crouched in the angle of one of the ruined shacks. Nazeera was beside her as they stared back down the alley and watched the Dervish tormenting her father and Rebecca. Saffron was too shocked to speak or weep. When the executioner stepped up to David and held the sword over him she covered her mouth with both hands to prevent herself uttering a sound that might betray them but she could not tear her gaze away from the harrowing sight. When the Dervish made the fatal stroke and her father’s corpse fell forward, Saffron was at last released from the spell. She began to sob silently.
She watched them tormenting Amber with their father’s head, and could not control her tears. When at last they dragged Rebecca and Amber towards the waterfront, Saffron jumped to her feet and took Nazeera’s hand. The two ran on towards Ryder Courtney’s compound.
Dawn was breaking when they reached it, and the light was growing stronger. The gates of the outer compound stood wide and the buildings were deserted. The Dervish had not yet spread out from the centre of the town as far as this. They ran on across the inner courtyard. Saffron paused long enough to peer through the open door of the blockhouse. It was empty, stripped of every item of value. “We are too late! Ryder has gone!” she cried to Nazeera. With a despairing heart she ran on towards the canal gates. They were closed but unbarred. It required their combined efforts to push them open. Saffron was the first through. Then she stopped abruptly. The Intrepid this’s mooring was empty, and the steamer was gone.
“Where are you, Ryder? Where have you gone? Why have you left me?” She gasped for breath and fought back the dark waves of panic. Once she had gathered herself, she turned and raced along the canal towpath towards its juncture with the Blue Nile. She had not covered more than half the way to the first bend in the canal before she smelt the woodsmoke from the this’s funnel. “He can’t be too far ahead,” she told herself, and her spirits soared. She pulled quickly ahead of Nazeera, who was struggling to keep pace with her. When she reached the first
